


us against the rest of us

by allthingsgo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, IDGAF, Swearing, bad words?, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsgo/pseuds/allthingsgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cool kids (minus Octavia) head out on a trip to Amsterdam, where they will most definitely see and do some risqué shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the princess and the droid

  
~~~  


The first thing Clarke smells when she opens the door to her apartment, duffel bag hanging from her sore shoulder and sweat probably still glistening on her brow is the pungent, all-encompassing, and unmistakable odor of the Reyes’ family’s famous fajitas. Her stomach rumbles, making her more than conscious of its post-exercise state of emptiness and she lets out the tiniest sigh of relief because again, Rae has her back with delicious, hot food at the ready. She loves Raven. 

The first thing Clarke tastes, however, is Party City Halloween Collection decorative spiderweb, which clings to her aforementioned sweaty face, gets in her mouth and makes her feel even more icky than she thought possible. And just like that, she hates Raven, and she hates Halloween. 

“Raven, what the hell?” Clarke spits, loudly dropping her bag to the floor, and desperately picking at the strands of year-old Halloween decoration on her tongue and face. 

“Oh, shit, what’s up?” comes the quick reply, and seconds later Raven literally slides into the hallway, spatula in her hand and a concerned look on her face, her eyes jumping to the duffel bag and identifying it as the source of the thud. Once she takes a few seconds to assess the situation, her lips spread into a grin, eyebrows raised in amusement because Clarke is still sputtering in her attempt to get all the fake spiderweb out. 

“Are you having trouble there, princess?” 

Clarke rolls her eyes as she gets the last bits out of her mouth and picks her bag up off the floor, registering the rest of the Halloween decorations splayed across the ceiling and walls from a safe distance before she gives her apron-clad friend a stern look. 

“Stop calling me that.” She takes a seat at the kitchen counter, and unceremoniously dumps her bag on the floor again. “Also, why are you wearing Heely’s inside our apartment? Are the floors not scratched up enough?” 

Raven whistles at the quip, rolling her head back and away from her snappy roommate. “Damn Griffin, you’re no fun after work-outs. Since when do you care about floors? This is some fake-ass wood paneling anyway.” She stomps twice for good measure. 

Clarke lets go at Raven’s familiar nonchalance and pouts because she’s too tired to be angry or pretend to care about paneling. “I know, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. She drops her face to the cold kitchen counter, albeit as gently as possible because she’s got a party tonight and her face will kind of be important. If she even goes, that is. 

Raven moves back to her sautéing as Clarke continues to mumble into the granite. “I hate exercise. I tried this new machine today and now my butt hurts so much, Raven.” 

Raven gasps. “Will you ever twerk again?” 

“Shut up, loser,” Clarke whines. “I’m in pain.” She scoots a little to the left and lays the other half of her face on the counter for cooling. 

“As much as I’d love to give you a butt message tonight you know I can’t because we’ve got a partaaayy to dress up for, woot woot!” Raven turns back to the counter with a little jump to her step and a hot skillet in her hand, arranging two plates with the other. Her energy is less than infectious, considering the circumstances. 

“Raise the roof, Griffin,” she deadpans, letting the meat drop. 

Clarke lifts her head up slowly to stare at her, lets out a breath and takes the plate destined for her with eager hands. Raven hands it to her obligingly along with the necessary utensils and napkins and Clarke hums her appreciation. “Honestly, though,” Clarke says through her first bite, “I don’t even know if I want to go.” She sits more comfortably on her stool and leans on her elbow while she chews, looking at Raven with an expression like “eh, you get what you get and I can’t even apologize because my ass still hurts.” 

Raven, on the other hand, goes from flippant to utterly dejected in the span of a second. 

“What do you mean you don’t want to go, we’ve been planning this for a whole month! Your costume is right in there,” she whines. She points in the direction of Clarke’s room but keeps her sad puppy eyes on her roommate. “You’re Leia and I’m R2-D2.” She makes use of her Heely’s to drive the point home, all the while keeping eye contact. Clarke keeps the food coming because she’s very hungry but yeah, Raven’s sad beep-boop sound effects are slowly but surely weathering her armor. 

After Raven is done with the slow, melancholy rocking back and forth Clarke just sighs and puts her fork down, dropping her gaze to her plate. “I’m so tired, man.” 

Instead of garnering her sympathy this admission just seems to irritate Raven and out of the corner of her eye Clarke sees as her eyebrows instantly fall into an angry V, her friend’s unofficial trademark. 

“Well, duh, you just came back from the gym after trying out some new death machine hours before a very cool, very _important_ party. Like, I don’t know why you go to the gym in the first place but then you also push your ass to its limits as if you actually enjoyed exercise, Clarke, what the hell.” 

Clarke has been watching Raven intently since her tone hit ultimate exasperation levels on the word “important”, looking on as her best friend’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper. Knowing Raven means this kind of outburst doesn’t particularly faze her, nor does it fire her up and make her respond equally as fiercely like she would if anyone else were picking at her like that. Knowing Raven means that this kind of outburst counts as A+ communication and a pretty solid pep talk, which means that even though Clarke feels half-dead she will probably end up drunk tonight and definitely hungover tomorrow. She tell herself it’s worth it though, if only to see Raven roll around with a lampshade on her head and two forties in her hands. Plus, she feels like she owes her for the meal. 

“All right,” Clarke concedes. “I’ll go. And I’ll be happy about it, I promise.” She smiles as best she can with her mouth full and Raven laughs, rolling her eyes as she begins to eat, too. 

“Never go to the gym again, princess.” 

“We can’t all have the Reyes’ family metabolism, Raven.” 

“Very true,” comes the slightly muffled reply. Raven swallows and continues, her fork drawing circles in the air as she addresses Clarke. “But if you still must go then stop risking your life on those stupid machines and just run on a treadmill like a normal person.” 

Clarke laughs, coming off her elbow and sitting up straight, some of her soreness beginning to disappear. “I was dared to try it, and you know me.” She gives a goofy smile, the tip of her tongue poking out between teeth. 

“Who dared you?” Raven scoffs, her lips turning up into a curious smirk. Clarke swallows. 

“You remember Lexa?” 

Raven perks up a little as she strains to remember. “Lexa? Last-year Lexa?” 

Clarke frowns down at her plate, mulling over the moniker. “Well that makes me sound like a womanizer.” Raven laughs loudly at the implication she very much believes to be true and puts her fork down, irreversibly involved now. “If the shoe fits…” she teases, smirking. 

Clarke shakes her head, warding the ghosts of girlfriends past out of her mind and opening her mouth to speak before these accusations go any further. “Okay, no, no shoe,” she sputters. “Stop laughing.” 

Raven puts her hand up in surrender while her grin still shines with mischief, an almost constant contradiction in her everyday demeanor. “Okay, okay, so you see Lexa at the gym, it’s a happy reunion I assume, spare me the juicy details, please, what else?” 

Clarke gives the teasing nothing more than a quick eye-roll. Needless to say after four years of living with Raven she’s used to it. 

“Well,” she begins, considering whether she should spill everything regarding Lexa now or after the party. Or maybe during when Raven’s tipsy… actually, now is fine, screw it. “I’ve sort of been meeting Lexa at the gym.” Her voice is level and relaxed, because Clarke is just that good. 

She pauses to gauge Raven’s reaction, though, who is just barely beginning to show signs of confusion. Clarke feels it is safe enough to continue. “We work out together. She’s my work-out buddy.” Still calm and collected, and she tops it off with a quick smile. 

Raven narrows her eyes for a second as she stares Clarke down, her chin slowly coming down to perch on her right fist. “And you didn’t tell me why?” 

Clarke nods understandingly. She has to be really honest here because it’s not even the biggest reveal she has planned for the next five minutes, so she takes a long breath. “Remember when my resolution this year was to start working out more and I didn’t really do anything for the first week so you told me to get off my ass and I finally went?” 

Raven lifts an eyebrow and nods slowly. 

“Anyway, it was so boring and terrible but then I saw Lexa and she recognized me so I thought ‘cool, I’ll hang out with her for a while’ and we, you know, exercised…” Raven’s expression molds into one of surprise and R-rated implications but Clarke quickly shuts it down. 

“No, no, platonic exercising, you perv. We’re friends.” Still just friends. 

“You could’ve fooled me after last year’s whole thing,” Raven mutters, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth while eyeing Clarke with the deadest expression. 

Clarke purses her lips in slight annoyance. Raven is referring to the job Clarke had last year at the Animal Rescue League where she met Lexa, who was appointed as Clarke’s babysitter, basically. She was in charge of showing Clarke the ropes to being a charity officer, and she took it to heart. So maybe they started hanging out a lot after the initial clash of “I’m new but you don’t have to be on my case all the time” and “you know nothing and I have a really intense face”. Last year’s “thing” was just Lexa being a really dedicated supervisor who’s apparently “too hot” for Clarke’s friends to believe they weren’t constantly banging. But they weren’t. So maybe they made out once at a work party thrown for Clarke’s last day but that was in the past and Clarke rarely, _rarely_ thought about it. Once last week maybe but that’s hardly significant. 

“Raven, I promise we have not had sex not even once.” Clarke’s voice drops, and she slowly leans forward, her expression softening. “If we did, I would tell you.” Her hand reaches out across the counter, softly caresses Raven’s arm. “I would tell you every detail.” 

Raven recoils and scrunches up her nose, her zombie face morphing into one of shocked amusement as she swats at Clarke’s hand repeatedly. “Ew, Clarke, gross, no thank you,” she coughs out between giggles and probably legitimate choking considering the cherry tomatoes she has just ingested. 

Clarke grins triumphantly as she quickly settles back on her seat, watching her friend lightly struggle with getting herself back together, but (hopefully) in a totally harmless way. Either way, Clarke continues. “Good, because you and everyone else are super annoying when it comes to Lexa. Like obnoxious beyond obnoxious, if that’s even possible.” 

Raven makes a face at her, left hand resting gently on her neck. “Oh, _ease up_ , Griffin! Maybe if she had stayed in our presence for longer than five minutes at a time we wouldn’t all think you just kept her around for sexy times and whatnot.” 

Clarke puts both her palms flat on the granite with a resounding smack, nodding at the counter as she pretends to ponder Raven’s words with a very pensive looking duckface. “I’m glad you think that, Raven,” she says, “because I gave Lexa our extra ticket and she’s coming with us to Amsterdam on Wednesday.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First the 100 fic means first exploration of these characters I love so much but never had the courage to write. Now that you know that, also know that my interpretation of some of them I feel is pretty different from the usual, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!  
> P.S. Has anyone found the pun? If you find the pun I wrote you get a prize.


	2. the robot and the friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa time.

  
~~~~  


Lexa really hates packing. It’s not so much the labor aspect of it that she dislikes, it’s the fact that her brain mulls over ever singular outfit or item of clothing that could possibly be useful in any plausible situation she might encounter, and she ends up taking days to finish. So, a jacket and scarf because it will most likely be cold; but _what kind_ of cold are we talking? Should she take a heavy scarf that’ll give her proper cover for bitter winds, or a more permeable one almost exclusively for aesthetic purposes? She looks pretty hot in her leather jacket, but it’s faux-leather and doesn’t really do much against said winds, so where does that leave her? 

She sighs, drapes her jacket over the edge of her bed and walks over to her laptop, which rests on her expensive mahogany desk. The screen lights up as she lifts it open and the weather forecasts for Amsterdam November 2nd to the 9th are still there, unchanged. It isn’t really specified how strong or cold the winds will be. Not that she very much trusts meteorology in the first place, but she still needs some sort of guide as to how the reality will be in a city she’s never visited. Oh, and that reminds her, she needs a map of the city. 

She quickly opens a new tab, and glances over at her printer to make sure it’s loaded with paper. As she starts typing in the search bar, though, she thinks twice; maybe Clarke has a map already… after all she is in charge of this trip, from what she’s told Lexa. And Lexa believes it, because if it were any of Clarke’s other friends in charge she would definitely not be packing a bag and a half right now. It’s in fact very surprising that they are even okay with Lexa coming along. They don’t particularly know Lexa and Lexa barely knows them, even though Clarke has told her _a lot_ of stories and she’s pretty sure she’s been the subject of a few on the other end. If she hasn’t then that’s a hell of a missed opportunity for Clarke, because Lexa’s been cashing in on Griffin-themed anecdotes, usually gym-centric, for months now. 

Lexa takes a gander at her watch, sees that it’s 6:30 and decides to call Clarke in order to clear up any doubts about the trip and finish packing with her mind at ease. She remembers Clarke mentioning a party, but that’s probably later; Lexa’s going to one, too, and it starts at 9:00, officially. Lexa will go at 9:30 to be safe. She closes her laptop once again and walks out to the living room where she left her phone on the coffee table, on top of her Bones DVD box set. She taps thrice; it rings, and is answered in seven seconds. 

“Yes?” comes the voice, one that distinctly does not belong to Clarke. Lexa blinks. 

“Umm… Clarke?” 

“No, this is Raven.” Ah yes, Raven, the mechanic. Lexa’s only spoken with her once. It was very brief. She sounds serious now. 

“And you’re Lexa.” Lexa nods dutifully, as if Raven can see her. The bravado in Raven’s voice, and possibly the fact that this is Clarke’s best friend, makes her slightly uncomfortable and is affecting her ability to respond, apparently. 

“Tell me, Lexa, what kind of twenty-four year old still makes phone calls, anyway? Last person I talked to on the phone was my aunt. She’s fifty-five and lives in Sacramento.” 

Lexa starts, taken off-guard a little by the teasing. Normally she uses her physicality to be imposing but that’s not a factor now, unfortunately. Her free hand goes up and softly rubs at the freshly formed frown lines on her smooth skin. 

“Yeah, I, uhh, suppose I just like hearing people’s…voices…or something…” she stumbles over her words at the end but just shakes her head, trying to rebel against her propensity for awkwardness. “Listen, Raven, where is Clarke?” 

“Oh, she’s in the shower. Did you want to talk to her?” 

“…Yes.” Lexa narrows her eyes. She swears she hears the faintest laugh on the other end. 

“If it’s about Amsterdam, I can answer any inquiry you may have. If it’s about anything else, I’d be happy to take a message as long as the subject matter is appropriate for all audiences.” Lexa chuckles, despite the strangeness of the situation, or perhaps because of it. Either way, she is wary of Raven’s easy wit. “My pen is ready.” 

She had been hoping to talk with Clarke, honestly, with the pretext of asking questions pertaining to the trip, but she supposes she’ll just get some info from Raven, who seems smart enough to not be completely insufferable, and call Clarke later when she’s out of the shower and far away from friends. 

“I was wondering if Clarke had a map of the city.” 

“Well, that’s boring,” Raven states. Lexa frowns and Raven continues. “She doesn’t, but I do. Clarke isn’t really into maps. She wants to _‘get lost’_ or some sappy shit like that.” 

Lexa smiles faintly at the thought of romantic Clarke Griffin, remembering the face she made once when a coworker received a bouquet of flowers at their desk near Valentine’s Day. Lexa sighs softly, letting the memory retreat and having expended her legitimate travel questions for this exchange. 

“Okay, thank you, Raven,” she says, fully intending to end the call here. 

Raven chuckles. “That’s it?” She sounds incredulous and actually keen on more conversation, if Lexa can believe it. “Lodging, food, local attractions-” 

“Wait…” Lexa begins, a new doubt crossing her mind now that Raven is insisting. She just has to make sure. “Everyone else knows that I’m going, right?” She ambles over to her entertainment center and distracts herself with the assortment of trinkets on the small shelf. 

“Oh, nah.” 

Promptly, Lexa’s heart drops as she imagines having to stand by politely through so many unpleasant explanations and obnoxious side-eyes from Clarke’s other friends, ones she’s never even looked at, much less spoken to. “But Clarke will tell them soon. Tomorrow, I guess, she didn’t say; just ran into the shower.” 

Lexa resists the urge to exhale her annoyance across the air waves. “…Sounds like Clarke.” 

“Do you have a lot of experience with Clarke and showers?” 

Well, that is unexpected and wildly inappropriate. 

“ _Oh god no_ , no,” Lexa sputters in surprise as the small stone elephant she was toying with clatters against the wooden furniture with each unsuccessful swipe she gives in an attempt to catch it. Why is this happening to her right now? 

“No, I- uh, don’t, I don’t.” She tries to rearrange all the knocked over pieces as Raven’s quiet laughter fills her ear. 

“Relax, relax, I’m kidding.” Lexa sets the last piece upright with the force of subdued irritation. 

“I can’t say that was particularly funny,” she asserts, her brow thoroughly furrowed. On the other end, Lexa can hear movement and surmises Raven probably isn’t even listening to her anymore, much to her chagrin. Which, why should she care anyway? She never wanted to talk to her in the first place. 

“Yo, Lexa, this has been fun and all,” Raven says, just as Lexa is about to hang up, “but your girlfriend just came out of the shower and I gotta go.” A buzz, signifying the end, is all she is left with. 

That’s it, dead, and Lexa barely had time to roll her eyes. She stares at her blank phone, mouth agape. Usually, people annoy Lexa because they’re too stupid to keep up with her and overcompensate by being loud and offensively not funny. This is the case ninety-nine percent of the time because, let’s face it, few people are as smart as her, and the stupidest are often also the loudest. The one percent of annoying cases, though, is the one where the perpetrator is so witty Lexa can only react, which wouldn’t be a problem by itself, except this person also has an affinity for making people squirm, and therein lies the issue. 

If Lexa has one prominent flaw, it’s the ease with which people can effectively get under her skin. She’s been called a robot before, so she assumes she’s the kind of robot with buttons and switches lined up on her torso, unprotected and ready to be pushed at a whim. Conceivably she should be more insulted at the implication that she’s a rudimentary robot with open wiring but it works for the metaphor, so she accepts it. 

Up until now, only one person knew which buttons to push for the most entertaining reactions. That is Anya, Lexa’s longtime friend and distant cousin, whom she’s known for most of her life. Now, the newest pain in Lexa’s ass is Raven, whom she’s known for approximately five minutes and has already made her juggle four tiny elephant stone figures after just one quip. Lexa has half a mind to tell Clarke she’s not going, but that would be drastic, and Raven probably still has her phone. So she just hopes that once they spend time in Amsterdam, Raven will be too stoned to mess with her and Lexa can sight-see in peace. 

Lexa shakes her head and tosses her phone on her couch. She re-enters her room, takes a look around, and when her eyes land on her leather jacket, decides that wind or no wind, the biker look is now a must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no regular updates, sadly. I had to finish this chapter so I could fully devote myself to school work, but I will definitely keep developing this so no worries! and happy season 3 premiere


End file.
